I dont think there is any inhabitants here. When I close my door, beyond these walls, how would I know? How can I distinguish what is real? How can we at any given time know for sure that what we are experiencing is not a delusion? How can we be sure that our senses are not deceiving us?

I, inhabitant of Planet Earth, intuit my only role here is observation. I am not here to save lifes, to paint, or idolize. I am not here to be a mother, a housewife, a private. I am but a civilian, a big overthinker, a closeted romantic. One that dabbled in watercolors, pencil drawings, ink doodles, film photography.

I think I am just passing by. I am headed somewhere else, I must be. My ride is delayed, maybe space traffic, maybe an expired license to traverse the cosmos. I am not pleased and growing impatient.

I find it extremely odd that people feel at home here. Upon hearing statements of young families, lone wolves living somewhere remote, or retirees with a built in routine… I cant help but think that something went wrong with my assignment and I have been left on the wrong planet far too long. I feel this strongly every day, about 90% of a vacation day and about 65% in a work day. Should I be looking up? Should I be chanting a text that will open a portal? Should I get a burner phone and dial a number?

A question, dear reader, are you also suspcious of this? Are we both waiting for that delayed ride home? Are you… the driver here to fetch me?